


Crow's Nest

by WhimperSoldier



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Irish Mythology
Genre: I LOVE STEVE, Irish Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Russian Mythology, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, and a few nuns, fight me, little graphic scene sprinkled in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 04:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6500155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhimperSoldier/pseuds/WhimperSoldier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sister Dana knew that Barnes boy was trouble. He had a smile like sin and a swagger just as sweet. His hair was perfectly coiffed and curled innocently around his heart-shaped face and the girls melted. Where Barnes went, Steve followed, or so every other Sister claimed around laughter at the supper table, but she knew. That Barnes boy was a hunter, she saw it in his eyes.</p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>Steve is too good, too pure for this world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crow's Nest

Sister Dana knew that Barnes boy was trouble. He had a smile like sin and a swagger just as sweet. His hair was perfectly coiffed and curled innocently around his heart-shaped face and the girls melted. The gentle wrinkle at his brow when she inevitably found him smiling in her direction, that was what made those girls follow that boy around like dogs. They nipped at his heels for dates, anytime made with the blue eyed boy who stole hearts.

Dana knew there was more to the story because she raised those boys and boys only one was. Where Barnes went, Steve followed, or so every other Sister claimed around laughter at the supper table, but she knew. That Barnes boy was a hunter, she saw it in his eyes. She knew their kind and she had watched these boys grow from rough bony children to lanky men, their eyes not holding the cocky arrogance they should only for the tallest to spread his wings and take off.

Steve was a favorite of hers. A soft soul wrapped in the cloak pressed upon him by the harsh world. She had loved watching him draw after Sunday School, his little fingers fumbling for the colored pencils she had smuggled in. The Mother Superior told her not to get attached, that these boys only became disappointments, but Steve was a good boy. He read his bible and smiled at the other children even when they never smiled back. He fought. She knew it was in his nature, could see it in his eyes after he ran to her with a broken pencil and a chip on his shoulder. He had Irish blood in his veins, she could tell, and it made her heart beat irregularly when he smiled at her, wide with two teeth missing. She had little power left in her but she knew she would protect that boy with all of herself. He was her boy and when he went with Barnes she spent the night in tears.

Barnes was a favorite of everyone else. He was cocky, happy and cheerful, funny and charismatic. He pulled her boy to him like a siren's song, drawing him in and pressing him to his chest like he belonged there. She knew he did it to spite her, at first, but then she watched and saw the change, the gradual pull that Steve had pushed, sending Barnes into orbit around him. She knew that pull was so very hard to resist. Barnes held out until he didn’t. So she watched as he did just that until he let go and became a satellite to Steve Grant Rogers.

She had joined the convent to help people, and her boy needed her. She knew the way to their crummy apartment on the bad side of the bad side of town. Even in the slums, Sisters are regarded well, they help all, even these rough men with calloused hands and sad eyes who drink just a bit too much. The apartment is on the sixth floor and Sister Dana can already feel the draft through broken windows. The door is nondescript with grooves in the wood and names carved into the corvers. She knocks primely and waits for the tale tell shuffle from within the house.

Steve peeked out from behind the door. His blue eyes flashed wide and his lips pull back into a bright smile, blowing away the chill in the hallway. Dana smiled back, raising her basket, the pie tucked politely between the folds of cotton. Her boy made quick work of the lock before waving her in, brushing off the table and pulling out a chair for her. A shout from the bedroom made them both pause.

“Who’s knockin’ this late in this neighborhood?” James hissed, walking out with suds on his face and a razor in his hands, a broken piece of mirror gripped in his fist. He grinned at her and tipped an invisible hat with a wink and a cruel twist to his lips.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes,” Dana whispered, her voice not nearly as strong as she wanted. He grinned like the cheshire cat, wide and with too many teeth to be completely friendly. “I figured you boys never eat much and I made one too many pies for the Sisters, so I thought to bring it to my favorite artist.”

“Naw, now you just wanna make me blush,” Steve’s cheeks did flush under his soft smile but it was endearing. As if coming back to himself, Steve popped out of his chair and made his way to the door, talking about swiping another plate from the lady downstairs, demanding she stay and share a piece of her hard work. When the door shut with barely a slam, it echoed around her head like a gong.

“So what are ya really doing here, Sister?” Barnes hissed, walking over to the sink to splash water along his chin to wash away the soap. With a sinful smirk, he walked over and planted a hand between the table and the wall, blocking her in the corner. Dana was many things and a pushover was not one of them. She stood up so fast the chair tumbled to the ground and her fingers tightened around her bag.

“You leave him alone, Kutkh, he means nothing to you,” She tried, her tone strong but her words weak. The smile slipped from Barnes, Kutkh’s, mouth and instead the flutter of ruffled feathers filled the room. She could feel the push of air as his wings shadowed her small form. “He is mine, you can not have him.”

“You overstep your reach Danu!” His voice echoed and she could feel the power ripple through the room. Barnes, Kutkh, moved back, flinging an arm out and sending a glass skidding across the room only to shatter on the floor a few feet away. “I have claimed him, there is nothing left for you here. You are just a forgotten goddess who forgets her reach.”

Danu could feel the blood in her veins boil. How dare he lay claim to one of her own? Her people may be scattered, and she may no longer hold the connection to the land she once had, but she was a goddess of the Earth. No more of her children would be taken from her. Her fingers tingled and the old magic flowing through her body gave her a rush. He turned.

“You can not kill me, so what is your plan, Little Mother?” He jilted, tilting his head and giving his pupils the impression they lacked a iris. His mouth crooked and taunting, as if asking her to do her worse. “I am the trickster, the coyote, you are nothing to me.”

Danu felt her magic sizzle and with a sly smile she plucked a single feather from the air twirling it between her fingers.  
“I will take from you what you have taken from me,” She whispered, her powers expanding and engulfing the other god. “I was creating cultures before you were born! I am the mother of the Earth and a little glamor is so very easily torn.”

Kutkh gasped and he fell to his knees, clawing at his face with taloned fingers. Feathers burst out of his skin along his arms and neck, spewing blood across the floor. The raven man who stole her boy would pay for his-

Crying.

She heard full-body sobs and with dread thick in her stomach, she turned to see Steve, her beautiful little boy, curled up in a ball by the closed door, a plate smashed on the floor, with tears flowing freely down his cheeks to mix with his bloody glass-cut palms. Barnes stopped moving, his breath caught in his throat and his wings fluttered, nervous, along his back. Danu took a step towards Steve and he sobbed harder, scooting backwards until his frail back was pressed against the far wall. She felt the tang of shame flood her mouth.

With careful steps, she moved forward until she could brush a hand along the delicate cheekbone brought out by malnutrition and general sickness that had taken root in his body. It was then she realized her skin had taken a green hue, her fingers rough like bark and her hair had come loose from the sharp bun to fall around her face; as red as the puddle at Kutkh’s feet.

“ _Oh Steve,_ ” She crooned, her voice layered but soft, even to her own ears. He glanced up, his cries cut off and replaced with body-racking gasps, the only noise in the quiet room. She glanced back at the man-creature curled protectively on the floor. His eyes never strayed from Steve, counting his breaths, she realized, protecting him from another attack.

Sister Dana felt sick and moved back carefully, watching Kutkh drag his body closer, hiding the worst of the feathers and the blood from Steve, he pushed himself up and curled protectively around her boy.

New sobs and a hitch in his chest, he cried into the shoulder of a killer and she could do nothing to stop it. She was the mother goddess and the only comfort she could bring was a light glamor over them both but it was too late, the damage had been done and Steve would always see through. He had magic in his veins and he would always see the truth, see her wrinkled skin and forget the woman underneath.

Dana exited the apartment with tear tracks down her cheeks and a heaviness in her heart. She had torn the best thing from her life and lit in on fire with her life blood and oh gods did she wish she could have let it go. Seeing her boy on Sundays would have been enough, could have been enough-

“Sister!”

She glanced up and with hazy eyes, it took her a few minutes to recognize her boy, leaning precariously out the window with a small smile and bandaged hands. “See you Sunday!”

His words made even more tears flow down her cheeks. She nodded decisively and moved towards the window unconsciously, her soul light for the first time since she saw the little Irish boy with magic humming in his blood and knew he would break her heart. He would be fine, he was a strong man with the heart of a lion and a will of an ox. He would go far and do wondrous things. She smiled upwards and watched a shadow in the window, two outspread wings, bat protectively over his shoulder.

Yes, her boy would be just fine.


End file.
